


And The Whole World Changed

by FenHarelsPride (Andauril)



Series: Siryn Lavellan - Non Canon / AU [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, I'm so sorry, Lavellan does not really appear, Mentioned Character Death, Post-Game, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4086328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andauril/pseuds/FenHarelsPride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Siryn Lavellan changes Solas' world a second time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And The Whole World Changed

He preferred to avoid villages and towns whenever possible. It was not merely an inclination born of years lead away from civilization, but also a necessity. He sought not to be recognized, for he knew that Inquisition forces must already be looking for him.

If she was anything like he remembered, she would not sit idle, but search for him. Siryn would spare no expense to track him down, and for her own sake and that of their people, it was best if she never succeeded.

But he could not avoid civilization forever. One did not learn of rumors in the wilderness, and spirits where not drawn to the small events that happened every day, but might just as well become of great importance at one point.

No one paid him attention when he entered the tavern. For the other guests, he was just another roamer, along with it an elf. No head piqued up to look at him. Fen’Harel would not complain.

It was easier to observe without being observed himself.

He took a seat at a table on the wall, which granted him a decent view over the whole tap room.

Most of what he heard was idle chatter, nothing that even remotely piqued his interests. This year’s harvest had been generous to these people, he heard, and the village would not need to starve during the winter. There was also a marriage upcoming, to be celebrated in three weeks. The wandering traders were late this year, and the people worried they wouldn’t come before winter.

The expected worries and joys of the little people.

It did not surprise him.

The waitress approached his table – a tired looking girl, ash blond hair tugged back in a loose bun, her smile weary and strained from a long day.

“What for you? We’ve got just ale and water, sorry. Ah … and bread from this morning, it’s still fresh, and we’ve got complaints about our soup.”

“Water and soup will do.”

“Alright”, the barmaid murmured, hurrying away without looking back a second time, already approaching the next table.

Slowly, the tavern began to fill. A few exhausted looking farmers entered, approaching the bar and demanding ale to wash away the strain of the day, and a muscled man – who could only be the village’s smith, guessing from his appearance – slouched himself at the table in the corner.

It did not take long until the next guests entered. Not dressed like farmers, they wore the Inquisition’s insignia on their chests.

For a moment, Fen’Harel considered to leave before the agents could notice him. But no … All two of them were focused entirely on themselves, busy with their own conversation. None of them paid attention to the taproom. It was obvious they weren’t looking for anyone. Off-duty, perhaps.

He would stay. Observing these agents could prove useful.

He turned his head when the barmaid approached, balancing a cup and a bowl in her hands.

“Thank you.”

The girl shrugged. “Makes twenty coppers.”

Fen’Harel nodded quietly and gave her the coin, his focus already shifting from her to the four Inquisition agents. They had taken a seat on a table not far from him, but none of them did as much as look his way. He could just as well have been invisible, and he welcomed it.

The barmaid left, hurrying away to cater to the needs of another newly arrived guest.

Fen’Harel pulled the bowl closer, dipping his spoon into the soup while glancing over to the Inquisition agents out of the corner of his eyes …

“ … never thought that could happen.” One of the agents leaned over the table.

“Whom are you telling? That was unexpected, if anything else.” The other agent took a sip from his mug, grimacing at the taste of it. “She always seemed … maybe it was wrong of us to think she’s anything more than everyone else.”

The first agent shrugged. “Won’t take long for that rumor to travel around.”

“To be honest, it surprises me that these people haven’t heard of it already. I remember … when King Cailan died, whole Ferelden knew it just days later or so …” The man took a second sip from her mug, until slamming it onto the table.

“She was more important than King Cailan ever was. Still can’t believe she’s dead.” The woman shook her head, running fingers through her hair. “I met her, once, you know? Didn’t learn it was her until weeks later. She had disguised herself as a simple soldier, checking on us.”

“You don’t say! How comes you didn’t recognize her? These tattoos aren’t that easy to miss, aren’t they?”

“Was evening, and she’d covered them up. The qunari was with her, what’s his name? Bull-something. Said she belonged to him. I believed him.”

“What was she like? The Herold?”

“Don’t know. She said nothing, just sat there and listened. But that she came checking on us little soldier is telling, isn’t it?” The woman sighed. “Still can’t believe she’s really dead. You know, we all knew there would be some who’d like to see her dead, but I never thought they could kill her.”

Fen’Harel could not move. Could not _think_. The world seemed to spin around him, and with every turn, every spin, with every empty beat of his heart in his chest, it was drained of all its colors more and more. He struggled for air, but could not will his lungs to breath.

He felt it. A sudden shift in the world as, once again, everything changed.

Something inside him told him that it had been something to be expected. She was a mortal, and far from being invincible. But he had not been prepared. He could never have been prepared. He had always known that this could happen, and yet, he had not expected it.

Not like this.

Not so soon, or so sudden.

He could not stay. He had to leave.

He did not know how he managed to get out of the tavern before his legs broke away from underneath him.

Fen’Harel gasped for breath, fingers digging in the dirt. He felt empty, drained, the pieces of him once again shattered. His chest ached, a sharp panging pain where his heart should have been.

But there was nothing.

There was nothing inside him.

He had lost his heart.

 

 

 


End file.
